The Search for Paradise
by Ayse-of-Hearts
Summary: The bed's not good enough anymore so South Italy and America look for ways to spice up their love life throughout the week. Rated for smut, Romano's mouth-I mean language and adult situations. Romerica.


Disclaimer-I do not own Hetalia.

AN: I'm in the mood for writing my first attempt at smut, Romerica/Americano smut. I got the idea from one of my sister's, DreamerAngel17's stories but I've added a Hetalia twist to it. I guess they're like drabbles or something similar.

I'm also planning to write a crack!fic, Romerica version of Romeo and Juliet, because seriously, it has to be done.

Please don't mind the fail down below.

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><p><strong>Monday: In the kitchen<strong>

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Romano stands in the kitchen of America's home in Vermont, washing dishes. The two had just finished a big dinner and were moving to clean the kitchen when two of America's Secret Service agents came in from nowhere, with an order to escort America to Congress to settle some kind of bill.

So he'd left Romano alone in his home, with a kiss to the half nation's forehead and sweet promises of intimacy once he came back. Romano had held him to his word and threatened the blonde if he did not keep up his end of the deal.

The thought of America brings Romano back to the present, back to the dishwashing and back to him _not _waiting on America to come home. With every dish he rinses off and places on the rack to dry, his actions towards the dishes grows more hostile. He's certainly _not_ waiting for America to come waltzing in through the front door, a bright smile lighting his features and eyes the color of a clear summer sky; with arms open wide coming in to sweep Romano off his feet. Those rippling muscles, that baby soft skin-

A pair of arms encircle Romano's waist and familiar lips leave a trail of feathery kisses along his neck. Romano suppresses a moan and retaliates, throwing his neck back and reaching down to roughly grasp America's member. The younger nation hisses and the older nation smirks. "The fuck took you so long?"

America gains some control in his voice, but it's hard to tell. "Political shit, but we can talk later." He growls out Romano's name and the elder nation can't resist the huskiness seeping into America's voice.

He grabs the taller nation by the collar of his shirt and they sink to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and heated passion.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday: In the bathroom<strong>

America has just returned from an outing with Canada and Australia. The group had went hiking through a few of America's mountain ranges just wanting to escape for a little while and do nothing together. It was originally Canada's idea but America had chosen their destination.

His skin feels clammy and sticky, from all the sweat and bruises he'd obtained from falling down a hill trying to rescue his Mattie from a bird of prey that mistook his wayward curl for some kind of animal. It must've looked pretty delicious because it took America and Australia twenty minutes to get rid of the thing.

The dried sweat is making him itch so he heads on down to the shower. Halfway into his journey, he spots South Italy heading up the stairs in his direction. Already in the middle of taking his shirt off, America pulls it off even slower, making sure Romano catches all the movements of the muscles in his arms and torso. The Italian nation stands at the top of the stairs, watching his private strip show silently.

By the time America makes it to the bathroom, he's locked in a heated battle of tongue dominance against South Italy, completely naked and not giving a _fuck_. Somehow they get into the bathroom and when they do, America pushes Romano into the bathtub and starts the shower.

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><p><strong>Wednesday: In the living room<strong>

Romano has come to the conclusion that America has _definitely _taken after France in the sexual department. The pair are seated on Romano's couch in his shared home with Veneziano, watching some kind of Italian sitcom; well, they're watching TV and simultaneously groping each other without shame.

South Italy sits back, replaying his reverie over in his mind as America strokes that soft spot on the back of his earlobe that no one else knows about. The blonde bastard has come a long way in his road of intimate pleasure. When they first got together, America was a virgin who wasn't quite yet ready for sex and blushed whenever the general topic was brought up in conversation. A year into the relationship America was ready and willing to give up his virginity to South Italy and they both had treasured the experience.

Then the idiot didn't know what to do with his hands, where to touch, how to please but now he's a whole different story. America's hands aren't as experienced as Romano's but _mio dio _does the bastard know how to work them and how to rub that one spot on his curl that makes Romano's toes curl and his eyes glaze over in pure, unadulterated lust.

America's hand wanders from Romano's ear, up to his head where he gently tugs on that gravity defying curl that's off limits to every other living being except him. Romano whimpers weakly when America tugs it again, he massages his crotch when America tugs it a third time and he bites his tongue on a moan on the fourth.

By the fifth tug, South Italy tackles America to the couch and ravishes him wildly.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday: In the hallway<strong>

They've never done it in the hallway before. They've been in broom closets, custodial closets, behind vending machines and under meeting tables scattered all over world at the venues where world meetings occur. They've been adventurous in their sexual exploits during the course of their relationship, they've gotten away and gotten off most times, and others they've been caught red-handed and 'balls deep' in a few instances.

America's always wondered what it would be like to get it on a hallway. The wide open space of a hallway gives them plenty of breathing room to try some positions that he's read about in some foreign magazine on a plane to some European country with his boss. He'd shown the magazine to his boss, the President looked, then confiscated the magazine, frowned at his impressionably young nation and put Alfred in a time-out for twenty minutes.

Alfred didn't even get his customary juice box that plane ride.

Romano's never wondered what it would be like to have sex in a hallway. He's never cared for the idea and he never wanted to try it. Before he involved himself with America, he'd never had sex in a public place but after he'd de-flowered the young nation, Romano found himself getting it in at almost every opportune moment; like a rabbit disguised as the personified anthropomorphic representative of Southern Italy. America could never get enough, his sex drive was _incredible_ and Romano treasures every moment of it.

Right now America's got Romano up against a wall outside of their conference room in Germany. Before the meeting began, they'd snuck outside (more like America smuggled Romano out), waited for the last of the stragglers and proceeded to 'do the do'. Panting, moaning, grunting, they are doing it all as they lose themselves in the moment. America's strokes are quick yet forceful, sending jolts of pleasure all throughout Romano's body. The two keep reminding the other to keep it down so that the other nations don't catch on to what they're doing and it works.

Romano's banging on the walls, however, alerting the rest of the world gathered to the _real _nature of their coincidental absences.

"Go Lovi! Make Boss proud~!"

"Belt up Spain!"

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><p><strong>Friday: In the office <strong>

Americabites back a moan. Romano's got him bent over his desk in the White House and-_damn _that Italian could make him feel _good_. America's arms are outstretched in front of him, griping the edge of the desk. His fingers are pressing so hard into the wood that that his knuckles are turning white and he's leaving deep indentations of his hands. With every stroke Romano goes deeper and deeper and deeper, somehow managing to hit that sweet spot of America's prostate over and over again. He adjusts himself over America again and with a grunt he plunges into America's prostate.

The blonde presses his face into the surface of his desk and he lets out a strangled cry of ecstasy . From across the room, a knock raps upon the door that the nations had remembered to _lock _this time around. "Are you okay in there Alfred?"

The nation perks up at the sound of his leader's voice and he struggles to find his voice. "Umm yeah….everything's good in…_unh_, here." He throws a party inside his head for managing to coherently speak that sentence while Romano is pressing deeper inside of him.

"Alright. I hope you're working on those forms that need your signature. I need those papers." Alfred assures him that he'll get the work done and the President leaves to go back doing whatever he was doing. America pushes himself up on his forearms to sweep the papers on his desk to the floor then returns to his original position.

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday: On the airplane<strong>

South Italy and his boss are on a flight with America and his boss, on their way to a summit meeting in Spain. Romano doesn't know how the four of them ended up on a plane together, but he's not complaining.

Actually he is because America is sitting behind him with his boss, chatting about some kind of video game that developers in Canada make that he's been anticipating for months now. The President seems to be listening intently, nodding and smiling at his enthusiastic nation and silently reminding him that there are other people on this flight so tone down that voice.

Romano eyes his own boss, who is attempting to chat it up with a female flight attendant, but she's not paying any attention to what he's saying. She hands them their drinks, Romano makes brief eye contact with her, giving her a gentle smile and she blushes, booking her way back to the kitchen area.

A hand grips the headrest of Romano's seat and the half-nation looks back to meet America face to face. The President scolds Alfred on griping the seat so tight, knowing that he would break it, and the nation's hold slackens. "What was that?"

Romano notices the dark look in America's eyes. "What was what?"

"That! That thing you did with the flight attendant. What was _that?_"

"Nothing! All I did was smile at her, just being friendly. Stop being so damn paranoid." Romano's boss chuckles as he flips through a magazine.

"You and 'friendly' don't even belong in the same sentence."

Romano opens his mouth to respond but shuts it once he feels America's steel grip around his upper arm. He doesn't know what's going on or what's about to happen so he attempts to do what he does best; run away. His attempts prove futile once he realizes America's grip is _too tight. _He protests all the way to wherever America was intent on taking him, which ended up being the bathroom in the back of the plane.

"Being friendly huh? Let's see how friendly you'll be once we join the Mile High Club." That dark look is still in America's eyes but his voice has that husky undertone that Romano can't get enough of. The half-nation feels his arousal take over his body and his eyes glaze over in a lustful haze.

They damn near break a limb trying to shed clothing and enter the bathroom.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday: Under the table<strong>

America's on the bottom again. Usually they alternate, with Romano doing most of the topping because '_I was having sex before you were born. I know what the fuck I'm doing so just sit back and enjoy the show, bastard.' _

America had tried to tell him that _he _was the one that initiated the session in the first place but Romano had killed that argument with a kiss and somehow they ended up under the meeting table, with raging erections and ripping each other's clothes off. They're at a world conference in France, the meeting itself having been put on hold because of the search-and-rescue mission that was suddenly called in order to locate Italy and Belarus. America had yanked on Romano's curl covertly and then he found himself being ravished by the half-nation on the floor.

Romano's already entered America, and his strokes are smooth and calculated. He knows America's limit, and he's really not up for testing that limit right now. They've only got a few minutes and neither he nor America are even close to climax. So Romano decides to push in deep into America, in to the hilt and the blonde bites his tongue at the insane amount of pleasure flooding his senses.

Above, they can hear the nations filing back into the room so Romano quickens his pace, his thrusts becoming _harder_ and _faster _and _deeper Romano, deeper! _The other nations start to take their seats and the couple quiet themselves (read: moan and groan loudly), catching the attention of some of their peers. A few begin to investigate the sounds and just when Romano thinks they're about to be discovered, America comes and he comes _hard_, simultaneously spraying them both with his hot white liquid and slamming his fists down on the floor while he orgasms.

Unfortunately, his release destroys the floor around them and the pair fall down to the floor below, landing in a conveniently placed empty mail bin. They adjust themselves in their new environment and continue their activities. The other nations clamor to the floor at the commotion but Romano and America don't even notice, too caught up in their own passionate escapade.

"UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! YOU STOP THIS NOW!"

"Now, now _mon cher,_ let him have his fun. None of us are new to the idea of sexual relations during a meeting."

"Yeah England, my bitch France is right; every nation's fucked during at least five conferences; including me, kesesesesese~."

"Belt up Prussia, nobody asked you."

"_Bruder_! Why are you here? I thought I told you to stay at the house!"

"This_ awesomeness _cannot be contained West, you know that."

"Ve~, Prussia's so awesome Germany! He gave me special boxers to wear! Look!"

"Italy, you're just the cutest thing! You're cute just like your brother, I swear! Get 'em Lovi, make him feel _real _good!"

"Italy! Put your pants back on! _NOW!_"

"Japan, you work the angles from your side, make sure you don't miss a thing."

"_Hai_, Hungary-chan."

"When we are married, we shall consummate our marriage as well big brother, but not during a meeting. We _will _become one big brother…."

"Nyet. I-I do not w-want to become o-one with you, sister. P-Please understand…"

"Lies. In time you will see things my way, brother."

"Honestly, I didn't expect my boy America to be bottom. Got to admit this is pretty hot to watch though, right Sweden?"

"Hn."

"Sex was invented in Korea, da ze~."

"Oh, just imagine the babies they'll have; drop-dead _gorgeous_ Italian looks with unbridled American strength! I think I'm going to faint…"

"Hong Kong, wake up Taiwan please, aru."

"Like, Romano's sex game is like, totally A-1. He's got America like, screaming his name. Liet, you're like, a total perv for watching this."

"Y-you're watching too Poland! And you're recording it on your cell phone!"

"_Lovi~! Lift him by his waist! You'll go in deeper that way! Haha, Grandpa Rome knows ALL the best moves~!"_

"WOULD YOU STUPID, INSTIGATING, TITTY FUCKING _BASTARDOS_ SHUT THE FUCK UP?"

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><p>AN: At the end, I don't even...<p> 


End file.
